


Pitiful

by anotherjadedwriter



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Bulges and Nooks, M/M, Porn Without Plot, Size Difference, nook!Cro
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-25
Updated: 2015-03-25
Packaged: 2018-03-19 15:31:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3615036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anotherjadedwriter/pseuds/anotherjadedwriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He's weird, for his size. You mean, you don't expect everyone taller than you to be smashing buildings or whatever, but he can hardly even meet your eye.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pitiful

Darkleer is, unsurprisingly, fucking huge. He looks like Horuss went out and pupated… Ten times. His horns are so sharp you bet they actually cut at the point, and he has this air about him that makes him seem almost untouchable. You look him over and god, you just want to pail him into next sweep.

Horuss had introduced you, excitedly, to his “Alternian self”, who had been following along like a scared woofbeast, and when you met his eyes he turned away. Now that Horuss is off and about and you convinced Darkleer to sit with you, you can appreciate his… Him-ness, you guess. His hair is down, hanging past his waist, and his body makes a hard wall that you have to remind yourself not to lean on. Finally, you speak.

"You ever met me, in your world? I think they called him Dualscar." You say, trying to sound as offhand, even casual, as you can. "Hm?"

He doesn’t look at you; or, he does, but he looks away when you look up at him. “I, we met once. The Orphaner did not often spend time with those outside of his quadrants, for security reasons.” He pauses, like he’s trying to word things delicately but hasn’t had the chance before to think of it. “He did not make a habit of being around many people at once.”

Blinking up at him, you notice his hair sticking to his neck. It’s so long, you wonder if he’s cut it even once. His eyes flicker to yours behind his dark glasses, but don’t linger there. The longer you look him over, the more he sweats, even fidgeting, scooting in his seat just barely away from you like you’re some kind of beast waiting to sink your teeth in him. It’s so strange, for his size, that you feel one of the purest pale flares for him you’ve ever had.

Which isn’t to say you’re pale for him, just that you really want to see him get a moirail (and, let’s be real, you’ve always had a weird thing for watching people get papped). He seems like a nice enough troll, considering. And he’s pretty cute, in a weird way, all of that height and strength and he’s tucking his hair behind an ear with two fingers. Really pitiable, you guess. It’s such a weird term.

After a few more seconds, you realize that you’re just blatantly staring at him and blink, snapping your head around because wow, you never realized how creepy you can be at times. After a few more seconds of uncomfortable silence, he clears his throat, a surprisingly elegant sound for what it is, and then speaks again.

"If I am making you uncomfortable, I can go and find the version of myself you know, or simply leave you to… Sitting." He says, his broad hands folding on his lap. "I will not take offense, if you may be concerned."

You chuckle. “No, it’s fine. I just kinda wanted to get to know you. You seem interesting, s’all.” You glance up at him and he’s got his head down, though it snaps up at the last sentence and you see his hair blow back. For just a moment, you think you might see a flush on his cheeks, but he moves again before you can really be sure.

"I do hope I do not disappoint, then. Ah, may I call you Cronus?" He asks, his voice just an octave lower. "If you do not mind, of course."

A not-so-sly grin crosses your face and you scoot yourself closer, until your thigh touches his, and he doesn’t shy away. “Nah, I don’t mind. What would you say to comin hive with me? That way we can, yknow, get to know each other a little better.” You’re not even trying to hide your interest; he’s responded positively until now, anyway, so you figure you might as well go for broke.

It goes so quiet you have to look up at him to make sure he’s not like, asleep, or something. But he’s just looking down at you like he’s thinking about a hard puzzle, his eyebrows just barely pulled together and the corners of his otherwise expressionless mouth pointed down. Even though you did kind of expect a refusal, you expected it earlier, not after he’s responded so, well, almost eagerly. It stings a little more from the fact that he waited until now, like it was some kind of joke for him and Horuss to laugh about later.

So you’re surprised, pleasantly, when he clears his throat, pushes his hair back over his shoulder, and speaks. “I would like that, Cronus. It would be nice to get to know someone new.” There’s this lilt in his voice that you can’t quite place, something between terrified and hopeful, leaning closer to hopeful but still scared.

"Sounds like a plan, man." You say, pulling yourself to your feet to avoid thinking about how fucking ridiculous that sounds. As you stand, you absently pat his knee, like you’re reassuring him that going to your hive and probably pailing a complete stranger isn’t really  _that_  bad. “I’ll uh, I’ll lead you, I guess.”

He nods sort of stiffly and stands to follow you, and you get a good feel for that fact that he’s at least a foot and a half taller than you, easily, and the kind of big that makes you a little tiny bit nervous, but at the same time you’re sure you’re spilling pheromones all over the place. He’s sweating a lot, and you can see a little bit of blue on his cheeks, the tips of his ears, when you glance back to look at him as you lead him to your hive.

In the main hall, he pauses at the door, looking out of place and having to slouch a little from the ceilings being closer to the right height for you and not him. Brushing off the strange, vague deja-vu you get, you wave him in, slipping on a smooth grin.

"So, want a tour around the hive?" Your eyebrows quirk and you take a step closer to him, watch him stand stock-still, his face unreadable. Your resolve slips a little. "Or uh, something to drink?"

He clears his throat, that color coming back on his cheeks. “I would like a tour, if you do not mind. Or you could simply tell me what you want, so I may do it.” He’s looking away, and you’re starting to see the tinier expressions on his face.

"You don’t have to be here." You start, feeling like a creep. "I mean. Seriously. If you wanna leave I’m not gonna try and stop you, not like I even could."

He chuckles, sounding more nervous than anything. “I know, I do want to be here. I am simply used to being told what to expect if any p-uh, anything were to happen. It has always been more for business than for pleasure.” The way he says it makes you smirk, just a little.

"So you only fucked for quadrant pails?" You sound a little meaner than you’d hoped. "I mean, like, I’m surprised. I figured you’d have trolls hanging off you left and right. Have to beat them off with a stick, that sorta thing."

Darkleer shrugs, stiffly. “When one is exiled,” You can hear how his tongue curls around the ‘x’ and it makes your nook twitch. “They cease to have as many prospects as one might think. The allure of danger is not as strong as the promise of death from the Empress.” He sounds tired when he says that.

"Guess it’s good we’re already dead." You reply, stuffing your hands in your pockets.

A few moments pass in silence, then Darkleer shifts his weight and speaks again, lowly. “I do wish to continue as we were, Cronus. I simply do not know what to do.” He pauses, pulling his glasses off. “It has been a while, I’m afraid.” Without the glasses, you can see his eyes clearly, darting away from your own.

"We could make out, if you want?" You try, stepping a little closer. You could touch him if you reached out, now. "See if you feel like doing more."

He nods, closes the gap between you, and bends at the knee to reach your lips, but he pauses just a space away from actually kissing you. “I trust you will tell me if you need to stop?”

You nod, reach your hands up to grab his horns, and kiss him.

Darkleer is actually a better kisser than you’d expected. Honestly, he’s really good, his hand cupping the back of your neck and the other pulling your hips up against his, his tongue tracing your teeth before retreating. You’re embarrassed at the fact that you’re getting wet, but that doesn’t stop you from biting his bottom lip when he pulls away from your mouth, breathing a little harder and flushed to the ends of your fins.

"Where is your platform?" He murmurs, licking at his bottom lip and staring at your mouth. His eyes crawl back to yours. "That way we can sit."

You laugh a little breathlessly, then take his hand and halfway drag him through your hive, and pull yourself up onto the platform behind yourself and spreading your legs to encourage him between them. He stands between your thighs and you hardly have to tug him at all before he’s leaning in, kissing you slow and deep and perfect. He sucks on your tongue, nibbles on your lips and makes the tiniest, sweetest little gasp you’ve ever heard when you nip the tip of his tongue. These pants are gonna need a good wash.

He steps in easily when you wrap an arm round his waist, pressing himself against you and moving his mouth to your neck. You coo, feeling the same shiver of fear and arousal that cuts through you whenever anyone is near your gills, but when he drags the tip of his tongue through the tiny fronds, you lose the fear and just cling to him, groaning. His arms go around you, holding you up when you go limp and just try to push your nook at him.

Something writhes against the better part of your ass as well as your nook and you gasp, pulling back to look him in the eye. “Is that your bulge?” Your throat is kind of dry.

"Y-yes." He murmurs, and you feel it writhe again.

You groan, rocking your hips into his. “Fuck, what are you waiting for, then?” You’re chuckling, a little, if only for your ego.

He smiles shyly and you kiss him, distracting him while you both try to undress without pulling anything over your heads for as long as you can. When you do eventually give up and make to properly remove your clothing, he looks you over, eyes stopping at your lack of bulge before flicking back to your own. You look away, tossing your shirt at the wall.

Finally, he breaks the silence, pulling your eyes back to his with a gentle tone. “You don’t have a bulge, do you?” He doesn’t sound disgusted or anything, just like he’s making sure he’s seen correctly and not that your bulge is shy, or whatever.

"No." You shrug, sliding a hand down your front to pull your nook open with a sigh. "Do you have a problem with that?"

He shakes his head no, one hand pushing his hair back over his shoulder. “I just wanted to make sure. I suppose there’s no question of who should penetrate whom.” He rests a hand on your thigh and you pull your hand back, watching him.

"Guess not. You sure you want to do this?" You keep your voice level, covering his hand with your own lightly. "We don’t have to."

You can see him swallow. “Yes. I do want this.”

You nod, scooting more to the edge of the platform to get his bulge closer to where you want it, and make a little noise when it pushes into you. He sighs, easing himself forward, pulling back and away just barely before pushing in further, and it’s  _good_ , it keeps you from feeling any sort of burn, just a delicious stretch that makes you chirp, your knees hitching over his hips. He licks his lips, which you fuzzily notice are trembling, and then he sniffles, and then he’s crying and you’re almost so caught up wondering how he’s still got a wiggly that you can’t respond.

"Darkleer." You choke, sitting up more presses his bulge into everything it wasn’t already pressing, and you have to focus not to just demand he get the rest of his bulge in you  _right fucking now_ , your hands going to his shoulders, even though you can’t really form words. “Darkleer.”

He sucks in a breath, hard, and wipes his face. “Sorry. I’m sorry. I do want this. I do. I’m, it’s, I don’t know why I’m doing this.” He sounds so broken, he can’t even lift his head to meet your eyes.

"Shh." You purr, pulling him closer, bending him in half and kissing his forehead. "Shhh, it’s okay. It’s okay. I don’t, I’m not upset. You’re, it’s okay, you’re overwhelmed." He nods, his body shivering. You kiss his cheek. "Do you want to stop? We can, fuck, we can try again later. Or not."

He shakes his head, breathing a little slower. “I would like to keep going. I just need a second, please.” He meets your eyes then, looking so embarrassed and fucking  _pitiful_  that you have to kiss him. You just do. He’s smiling a little when you pull back, ears twitching. “C’n I move?”

You nod. He keeps that little, barely-moving thing up, and you feel a burn in your nook a little more than halfway anyway, but it’s still good, and he keeps himself close, pressing small, almost worshipful kisses to your collarbones and chest. You pet his hair, trying not to push him closer and overwhelm him again.

Your orgasm creeps up on you, tickling up and down your spine suddenly, when he’s just about fully in you, and you chitter uselessly for a few seconds, grabbing at him when he tries to pull away, like he’s doing something wrong. Your nook is fluttering, your head is all full of fireworks waiting to go off, and you keep mumbling useless phrases, just asking him not to stop, telling him that he’s perfect, that he’s great, you’re coming, you’re going to  _come_.

And you do, keening in your chest as your nook tries to spill material and just gets plugged with his bulge. He presses the last inch or two in while your body is still trying to get every stimulation it can, his own breathing hard and rough, his bulge lashing only a little. You guess it’s that strength stuff Horuss told you about. He’s panting, his hair falling over his shoulder and ticking your chest, your back a little too tight in this position, but it’s fine. It’s all fine, you just lean up and kiss him and rock back against him, nuzzle under his chin.

He doesn’t cry again, but he does cling to you, pressing his face into your shoulder and panting, his thighs tight and tense, each kind of jerky movement of his helping to pull you towards another orgasm, your body feeling warm and loose all over from the first and just letting pleasure build in your abdomen. You notice, vaguely, that your abdomen is just barely raised, a lump in it from his bulge, and it makes you press to him harder, speak into his ear. He’s so good, you keep telling him that, how sweet and pitiful he is, and he keeps shivering, meeting your lips for kisses and choking out little noises.

Darkleer makes another of those tiny, sweet, pitiful gasps when he cums, pulling away from your kiss to hide his face, his hips jerking as he spills. You groan, rocking against him to try and push yourself over again, and then he just tucks you up against him, his bulge acting like a plug, and you come with a startled shout when your seedflap opens, tangling your hands in his hair as you push through it, everything feeling too much and perfect anyway.

By the time you finish, he’s fully sheathed, still holding you gently, and you don’t even have to try to convince him to lay down with you on the platform, fitting against your back pretty much perfectly. He puts his chin square between your horns and you tangle a hand with his own and speak lowly, asking if he’d want to do something later.

"Like, a real date." You say, fast. "I mean. I know a good place for this cool human food that’s like frozen milk and fruit?"

He’s quiet, his face hiding in your hair when he does respond. “I’d like that. Thank you.” He kisses your horn and you sigh, feeling this weird warm feeling in your chest.

"Yeah. No problem. I’d feel bad if I didn’t take you out, yknow?" You tease. He doesn’t move from your hair, but you feel him smile. "And besides, I do like you."

You’re surprised to hear that come out of your mouth, but not embarrassed. “… I like you too. I’m glad you enjoy my company.” His voice is soft and makes your chest clench.

"How could I not?" You whisper, smiling.

You feel very accomplished; you got laid  _and_  a date! That’s got to be a record, at least among your friends.

**Author's Note:**

> crying Zahhaks aka what I wake up for in the morning.  
> if you enjoyed this, consider tipping me here: https://ko-fi.com/A781PZJ


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